


Take Me Out

by TheResurrectionist



Series: Batman/Avengers Crossover 'verse [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Assemble - Freeform, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Crack, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gotham City - Freeform, Gotham City Police Department, Identity Porn, Jim Gordon's Moustache, Nick Fury Swears, Secret Identity, Sneaky Nick Fury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-08-31 05:07:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8565256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheResurrectionist/pseuds/TheResurrectionist
Summary: Alternatively titled, "Five Times Nick Fury tried to recruit Batman, and one time Bruce Wayne almost said yes."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So this is a little extra story I was thinking of. I guess, sequentially, this would have all happened before "Just Another Day" or before the Avengers all met Bruce Wayne. Remember when Fury said Bruce had already been asked to join the Avengers? Well, this is it.

_2012_

"What do you mean, he dresses up like a _bat_?"

Hill looked as unflappable as ever, IPad in hand as the video played silently. She frowned. "I mean, sir, the vigilante wears a bat-like costume. The local stations have already nicknamed him the-

"-Batman, for fucks sake." Fury narrowed his eye at the tablet, watching the man leap from one building to the next.

His footsteps should have been pounding against concrete-he was a good few inches taller than him, not to mention wearing boots that looked like they were meant for crushing skulls-but he didn't make a sound. Eerie. Fury shook his head.

"I'm sorry. I need a moment to get over the fact that, somewhere in the world, there is a grown-ass man dressed up like a bat, fighting crime."

Hill gave him half a moment, then spoke.

"Are you thinking about recruiting him, sir?"

"Does a bear shit in the woods?" Fury muttered, watching the costumed-man take out not three, not four, but _ten_ men in less than a minute. Was that a _ninja_ star? "Find him. Bring him here."

Hill nodded. "Sir."

Fury turned back to the bay of computers on his office's far wall, knee-deep in diplomatic work that couldn't wait another day.

Before he knew it, the sun was up and down, the only thing lighting his office his small desk lamp.

Maria knocked politely on his door around 2 AM, the entire side of her face bruised. He didn't ask. She wore it like a champ, as composed as ever. "Sir."

"Well, did you find him?"

"Yes. Gotham seems to be where he resides currently."

"And, you asked him nicely…?" He trailed off, noticing that she was holding her left arm, favoring her right leg as well. "You didn't ask him nicely."

"He laughed in my face as soon as I got to Gotham." Hill said stiffly, lips thinning in irritation. "And then when I began a strategic pursuit of the vigilante-"

"He beat you up?"

Hill fixed him with a look that would have made a lesser man cower. "I tripped."

"Uh huh."

"...off a building. That I may have been pursuing him in." Hill glared at the floor instead of at her boss. A wise choice. "Initial recruitment didn't seem to be very effective."

"No shit."

Hill's eyes found his for a brief second, which let him know exactly what she thought about _that_. "I suggest a re-evaluation of the target's apparent weaknesses."

"Or lack thereof?"

Hill inclined her head. "Sir."

Fury waved her off, settling in at his desk. The screens lit his room with a bluish-grey light, casting shadows across the carpet. He studied the monitors again, trying to imagine how someone-something-had gotten the better of Maria Hill. He could count the number of people in the world who could do that on three-no, two-fingers.

After another six rounds through the Batman footage, he realized he had a visitor.

"Are you just gonna stand there?" He said to the shadow, only half-certain it was actually a person. "I'm a busy man. I've got a schedule."

"I'm aware," a deep baritone responded. Batman stepped slightly closer, shadows still clinging to his costume. He was even more impressive in person, though Fury would never admit that. "I came to apologize."

Fury raised an eyebrow. "How did you get in here?"

"You really should have led with that question, Director." Batman smirked, if that's what the movement his lips made could be called. There was definitely humor in his voice. "Would you believe me if I said your window was open?"

"Hmph." Fury snorted. "No."

"Me neither," Batman admitted, rolling his shoulders. "Sorry for your agent. I didn't intend for her to get...injured."

"You pushed her off a building!" Fury said, tone clipped. "Did you think she was just going to _float_ down?"

Batman's glare was impressive. He felt the man's eyes bore into him and almost took a step back. There was no doubt he was dealing with someone just as smart and skilled as he was-even if he was dressed up like a fetish bat. "I didn't push her."

"What do you call what happened to her face then?"

Batman tilted his head. "Running into a wall. Then falling down a fire escape. Not my fault she couldn't keep up."

"You're one smug son of a bitch, you know that?"

"I don't think you're supposed to insult the people you're trying to recruit." Batman intoned, casting a dismissive glance around his office. His gaze landed on Maria's tablet, which was still replaying the Gotham Bat's last escapade. "Does this mean I have a fan club now?"

"Hmph," Fury snorted again, walking around to the far side of his desk. There were three guns stashed under it, which made him feel just the tiniest bit more secure. He grabbed a file off the stack of folders, sliding it towards the vigilante.

"What have you heard of the Avengers Initiative?"

Batman regarded the file with barely-concealed disdain. "Your band of merry superheroes. Widow, Hawkeye, Banner, Stark, Odinson, Rogers. Assembled a month ago at SHIELD, Alpha designator #3400829-"

Fury cut him off with a hand. "How the hell do you know-you know what? I don't want to know. Because that would mean some bat-yahoo from _Gotham_ managed to hack past Stark's firewalls-"

" _Please,_ Stark's firewalls are a joke."

"-and that would mean I'd have to arrest you. Immediately." Fury glared at the other man. "Just say yes to the initiative. We could use someone like you."

"You don't know anything about me." Batman responded. "That frustrates you, doesn't it?"

Fury agreed. Internally, because he didn't want to fuck this up like Hill had. He had no concrete intel, except for the bat freak in front of him.

"I'll be seeing you, director."

"Don't you dare-" Fury said, but it was too late. By the time he made it to the window, the vigilante was gone, not a windowpane out of place. No trace of his presence remained. "What the _fuck_ -"

He staggered back to his desk, settling heavily in the chair. He pulled up a new file designator, making a note to call Stark in the morning.

 _Batman_ was going down. Or joining the Initiative. Either way, he was wiping the smarmy smirk off the other man's face. Painfully.


	2. Chapter 2

He went to Gotham himself next week, careful to keep a low profile. The city was as God-awful as he’d remembered it being, full of muggers and bitter socialites who couldn’t care less about the problems in their gutters. There was a perpetual haze that settled over the city proper, sending Gotham into an early evening. Hunting hours, his mind told him.

After just a few nights of observing, he’d latched onto the Bat signal on the Gotham Police building. It was like clockwork--the light went up, some sort of exchange occurred, and the light went off.

The next morning, several criminals were apprehended, whether by the commissioner or a “Good Samaritan”. Nobody seemed to investigate too closely. It seemed to be an integral part of the current status quo.  

So, because it seemed like the prudent thing to do, Fury spent his last night in Gotham hunched over a heating vent on MCU’s roof, waiting for the signal to be turned on. He didn’t have to wait long.

A shorter, brown-haired man he identified as the police commissioner snuck up around midnight. The man walked over to the signal and pushed a button, unassuming. He had two mugs of coffee, which he placed on the roof’s edge nonchalantly. They waited in silence.

Like the time in his office, there wasn’t a distinct moment between the Batman’s entrance and his awareness of his presence. The man was just _there,_ hidden partially by the shadows in the far corner. He walked over to Gordon, silent as ever.

“Maroni again,” the Commissioner said, handing a file to the vigilante. “Three locations tonight. Think we can hit the north one. Can you and the boy take two and three?”

_The boy._ So Batman had a sidekick? Fury settled closer to the vent, trying to remain hidden. Had the other man spotted him? Impossible without infrared, but the illogical thought nagged at him.

Batman read the file carefully, face impassive. He handed it back to Gordon.

“Well?” the Commissioner asked, voice soft. He seemed casual enough with the other vigilante, even taking a seat and offering him the coffee from before. Fury watched, bewildered, as the vigilante took it and sipped. Bizarre. “You’ll look into it?”

Batman nodded, still drinking his coffee. “Sure. Hey, Jim.”

The Commissioner seemed apprehensive at the use of his first name. “Uh--yeah?”

“You’ve met Director Fury before, haven’t you?”

Fury cursed under his breath, unfolding from the heating vent and standing. The Commissioner startled, almost jumping into the vigilante. “Okay. _How_ did you see me?”

“I’ve been following you since you got to Gotham.” Batman was smirking again, standing in front of Gordon. “Fury could take one of these objectives. Could be good practice for his strike team. They’re...easily startled.”

“I can see that,” Gordon surmised, sending Fury a _look_. Gotham’s finest seemed to be a different breed, that was for sure. “Nice to see you again, Director. Just some vacation time in Gotham?”

Batman snorted as Fury closed the distance between them. “Who vacations in Gotham?”

“No one. This city is fucking depressing.” Fury reached the pair and halted, squaring his shoulders. “I don’t supposed I could change your mind about our last...meeting.”

“Oh, that was what you wanted?” Batman asked, something like a laugh echoing in his gravelly baritone. “I thought you were following me around to beat me up.”

“I admit, it did cross my mind.” _Multiple times._ “I’m not one to let a good investment go.”

Gordon was studying the two of them, amusement clear in the lines of his face. His mustache twitched once. “You think you can out-stubborn the Batman?” He snorted quietly. “They must make you guys differently in Washington.”

Batman snorted as well, sending Fury a look that would have been more impressive if the cowl hadn’t been in the way. “Still a no, Director. Sorry.”

He felt something like anger rush through him, heating his face. “Vigilantism is illegal in Gotham,” he directed at Gordon, who was making a show of turning off the Bat signal. “Why haven’t you arrested the vigilante known as Batman yet?”

“There’s a vigilante in Gotham?” Gordon shook his head, eyes wide. “Someone should let the authorities know. They should arrest him.”

Batman looked two seconds away from face-palming. Fury was one. “You _are_ the authorities, Jim.”

“Oh. Right.” The Commissioner's moustache twitched again. “Well, it was nice seeing you, Director Fury. I have to get home to my kids. You know how it is...”

He shut the rooftop door behind him, making his exit. Fury turned back to Batman, only to find an empty roof. “Goddamn it--not again!”

The dampened Bat signal seemed to mock him from its corner. He swore he could hear the Bat’s chuckle again, drifting on the wind. “Fuck this bullshit. I’m going home.”

No, he wasn’t. He was going to stay. One last-ditch effort. They needed someone other than Natasha to train others in martial arts--and he’d seen Batman’s style. That was decades of training, maybe more.

_I need him._ Fury grit his teeth. _But how do I convince him?_

Maybe he needed to re-think his approach.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! Sorry for the long wait.

As it turned out, he didn't. The answer presented itself in the form of a gold-embossed envelope at his hotel's door the next morning.

> _Mr. Wayne kindly requests your presence at the 52nd Annual Children's Charity Fund Gala. The event honors Gotham's top annual donors, and provides funds to over 300 local hospitals. Black tie is expected. Hor'dourves will be served._

There was no signature, but the seal looked more than official. For a long moment, he stood in his hotel room bathroom, the letter in one hand. This was it, he realized.

He'd seen the tech Batman had been packing-someone in that stuffy billionaire boys' room had to be funding the vigilante. Or they _were_ the Batman, which just made things worse. He studied the letter again. Someone knew he was in Gotham. Someone wanted him at this dinner.

Wayne? _No._ From what he'd read-just passing the tabloid stand in Gotham once-the man was an idiot. So one of his friends, moonlighting like Tony Stark had. He was already making arrangements for a tuxedo rental, planning his schedule. Hill could handle one more day in charge. The question was, could he manage one more day in Gotham?

Fury grinned. This was going to be-dare he say it-fun.

* * *

Wayne Manor was even more splendid in person. For a moment, all he could comprehend was the sheer _size_ of the building-elegant in a refined way that Stark wouldn't even _touch_ , all gilded marble and polished wood. Women in long dresses flitted in and out of the oversized rooms, drawing men in various states of dishevelment with them. Everyone had champagne with them, whether they were grabbing a new flute or chugging it.

Fury slid into the crowd easily, scoping out the place. He could see some of the businessmen he'd labelled as targets earlier huddled in the far corner, smoking some sort of cigar. He waited for a lull in the crowd and tried to slip through, intent.

"Whoops!"

Fury swore under his breath as someone knocked bodily into him, spilling champagne everywhere. He almost teetered backwards from the force of it, caught by a limp grip before he could do damage to Wayne's bay windows.

"I am so, _so_ sorry!" Someone was saying, pawing at him with a useless napkin. Fury looked down, then up, realizing the speaker was... _taller_ than him. _Wayne._ "I just got real dizzy all of a sudden, and knocked straight into you!"

Fury narrowed his eye at the billionaire, watching the drunk man continue to dab at his rental tux like it was salvageable. _Grr_. "Watch where you're going, Mr. Wayne. Wouldn't want to get hurt."

"I'm so sorry!" Wayne smiled dumbly, eyes flat. "Let me make it up to you. Look, I-I've got a nice lady friend stashed over in that corner…"

Fury grabbed his hand before it could point and reveal their location even more. "That's perfectly fine. I think I'll manage."

"No, no, I _insist…_ " Wayne said, loudly, latching onto his hand and yanking it, dragging him towards some girl waving from the side windows. " _Cheryl,_ darling, I have a _friend_ …"

_No no no no no no_ was his internal monologue, growing louder as Wayne's grip refused to lessen. He had to scope out the place-something he couldn't do if he made a scene. _Alright,_ he told himself, _Play nice with the girl for a few minutes, then make your escape._

_And possibly murder Wayne later,_ he amended. The playboy staggered a little before they finally pulled up in front of _Sheryl,_ a dazzling smile on his dumb face. "Sheryl!"

"Brucie!" the woman purred, stepping out of the shadows. She was wearing an elegant dress in red, her more- _pronounced_ -assets out on display. Wayne practically shoved him at her, depositing a glass of champagne in his hand with the ease of a social alcoholic. "Who's this?"

"A friend of mine," Wayne said, managing to squeeze innuendo into every syllable. He winked at Fury, releasing his grip. "Keep him company, would you? I have some business to take care of with Roger, the idiot."

Fury was nearly smothered as the woman went in for a hug, barely managing to hold onto his glass. By the time he was back out (Sheryl giggling all the while) Wayne was gone, the crowd undisturbed, like he'd never been there.

"Where'd he go?" He asked Sheryl not too kindly, grip threatening to break the stem of his champagne glass. She blinked at him, as if in understanding. "Wayne!"

"Brucie?" She asked, giggling a little. Christ, was everyone drunk in this fucking mansion? "I don't know. He does that a lot….just _disappears._ " She burped, covering it up with a hand. "Ooh. So mysterious."

_Jesus fucking Christ._

* * *

Bruce ran his thumb along his earpiece, as if brushing a lock of hair back. He stumbled through the crowd, doing his best to remain inconspicuous. "Alfred."

He watched the butler serve a couple across the room, then discreetly slip into a supply closet. "Sir?"

"Alert Dick," he murmured, dodging a swooning society hag. He waved, smile dropping from his face. "Get the suit ready. I have a bad feeling."

"Your surveillance of Director Fury shed some light, did it?"

Bruce felt his lips twitch. "I left a bug in his pocket. We'll see."

"Oh, and you've deposited him with Miss Sheryl," Alfred said dryly, obviously having accessed the cameras by now. "What a lovely young lady. Can't hold her liquor very well, though, I'm afraid."

"Would it be petty of me to hope she throws up on him?" Bruce mused, more to himself than Alfred. He spotted Dick across the room, who nodded at him. They exchanged a quick, subtle conversation. "He did threaten me."

"Naturally, sir." Alfred said, curt as ever. "And-" he broke off, voice dropping into a more serious register. "Gate alarms at the west and north entrances. You're about to have company."

_Finally,_ Bruce thought, entering his study. He stepped through the clock and into the cave, Dick three seconds behind him. "Keep an eye on Fury, will you?"

"Of course."

* * *

He'd just extricated himself from Sheryl when the sound of shattering glass sent him into fight mode. He looked around briefly, drawing a gun from his coat pocket. West corridor-the ballroom. _Shit_.

Fury hurdled past the oblivious people, pulse quickening as he heard the reverb of gunshots. Three masked assailants were at the center of the ballroom, motioning the guests back.

"All of your jewelry!" one of them was roaring, a bag open. "Your wallets too! Everything!"

He shot one of them in the leg, smirking as the man went down. The other two got with the picture pretty quickly, firing at him. He ducked behind a server's stand, hearing glass shatter above him as he returned fire. Champagne rained down a second later, stinging his eyes. _Are you fucking kidding me-_

He leaned up and shot at the second man's knees, squeezing off two direct hits. The man went down screaming, dropping the bag. Jewelry tumbled across the floor as the final man turned a special kind of pale, backing up as Fury rose. "Now don't…"

Fury raised his gun, smirking. "What was that, dumbass?"

"I wouldn't be so cocky."

Fury didn't make the mistake of turning completely, but he would be an idiot to miss the man standing behind him. A dark cape-dark suit, mask. _Batman. Of course_ -

The other man stepped forward, putting him just to Fury's left. A smaller figure dressed in red, green and yellow stood beside him. _Robin?_

"Why's that?" Fury asked, shaking his head slightly.

He swore he saw the Dark Knight's lips twitch. "Because there's thirty men about to barge through the door."

Fury raised his gun, sighting at the broken windows. A sharp glare from the vigilante drew him short. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"No guns," the other man growled, staring at the firearm. "No killing."

"These yahoos didn't give a shit about killing these unfortunate sons of bitches," he parried, glaring at the other man. An intense stare-off began, the other man's unnatural stillness getting under his skin. With a sigh, he dropped the gun into his pocket. "How in the hell are you two going to-"

Suddenly there were two dozen men in front of them, firing into the crowd. Batman and Robin jumped into the fray, dodging and landing hits. Fury made sure a few of the straggler guests left, then joined them.

By the time he'd gotten two hits in, most of the thirty were on the ground. The boy was leaping between opponents, landing kicks that seemed to defy gravity. Every move of Batman's was calculated, hitting vital points with enough force to slam his foes to the marble floor. He simply stood back and watched in awe, appreciating the pair's skills.

Batman finished with an almost imperceptible sigh, looking at his partner. Something unspoken passed between them, and they advanced on him. Fury rolled his eyes, watching one of the masked men pull himself to his knees, a gun in his shaking hand. "You missed a spot."

Without looking, the Dark Knight threw a batarang. It hit the man between his eyes, knocking him out. The gun clattered to the floor, offensively loud in the sudden silence. "Hmph."

"That was some impressive fighting," He opened with, hoping they wouldn't just vault out of the window and leave. He smiled at the boy, who seemed nonplussed. "A pair of your caliber-"

"Save it, Fury," Batman said, a note of humor in his voice. "The boy's got enough people extolling his virtues as it is."

Robin smirked up at him, doing an impressive backflip. He landed squarely on his feet, a little _ta dah_ apparent in his pose. "No, please go on!"

"We're not accepting any new employment offers," Batman said, glaring at Fury in a way that said _back off_. "You're encroaching on my territory, Director. I suggest you leave Gotham."

"Suggest?" Fury asked, indignant. " _Suggest_?"

"I appreciate the help, Director," Batman replied, unfazed as he broached his space. "I don't appreciate interlopers."

"You would be an important asset to the American people," he said softly, deepening his voice. He leaned even closer. "I don't make threats, Batman. But maybe I will."

The Dark Knight's gaze was calm and impassive. "Monaco." was all the other man said.

Fury felt himself blanch, backing up a few steps. His legs suddenly felt like noodles, threatening to give out under him. " _How do you know about Monaco, you son of a-_ "

"Ah ah," Batman said. "There's children present, Director."

"Fuck you," he hissed, pointing at the vigilante. "I don't know how you know about Monaco-"

Robin looked up at him, blinking behind the domino mask. "B, he said another bad word."

"I'm aware," Batman said dryly, looking the sputtering Fury up and down. "Director."

"I'm not finished-"

Two smoke grenades cut off any hopes he had of following their exit. He coughed, falling backwards into the ballroom. When the smoke had cleared enough to breathe, he stumbled forward, colliding with a solid body. "Who the-"

"Director!" Bruce Wayne cried, looking more than a little wasted. He had a champagne glass in each hand, and his tie was undone. His whole outfit looked like it had been thrown on in a few seconds. "Jeez, is it smoky in here! Who started the fire this time? Was it Wanda?"

Fury shoved him off, trying to follow the vigilantes out the window. They couldn't have gotten far. "Move out of my way, Wayne!"

"But Director I-" Wayne choked on his words as he pushed him aside, running towards the window.

Fury swore as he saw tail lights in the distance, slamming a hand down on the sill.

"Director, are you alright?"

"Shut the fu-" Fury bit off his words as he realized just who he was talking to. "No. I'm not alright, Wayne."

"Huh," was all Wayne said, following his gaze dully. His guests were starting to mill back in, tentatively sipping drinks around the shattered glass. _Gotham at its finest._ "Would some champagne help? I always feel better when I drink some."

Fury turned to swear at the billionaire, only to find a glass in his face again. He grabbed it with a sigh and swallowed a mouthful, then a few more. He grimaced. "Why does this taste funny?"

"Oh, shit." Wayne said dumbly, "That one was for Sheryl. Here, drink this one."

Fury swatted the second glass away. "Did you just try to drug me?"

"Of course not," Wayne said innocently, eyes wide, "I was trying to drug Sheryl. Wrong glass! So easy to mix them up. Two, _identical_ glasses of champagne-."

He felt the room go out of focus a little, stumbling. "Wayne, I swear to God-"

"It could have been an aphrodisiac!" Wayne cried, sounding offended. "You're not looking very grateful…"

"I think I'm going to throw up," he said to no one in particular, holding his stomach. The world turned awful shades of yellow around him. "Wayne…"

"You must not be feeling well after all that excitement. I'll call you a taxi!" the billionaire declared, like it was the best idea he'd ever come up with. He slung an arm around Fury, supporting him more than he'd like to admit. "Tell me where you're staying, won't you?"

"You drugge...me…" Fury felt something warm around his shoulders, mumbling his address as his mind fuzzed out. "I don't feel..good…"

"That's what happens when you chug champagne," someone said above him, chuckling slightly. "Sleep well, Director. Sorry about the hangover."

* * *

When he blinked awake again, he was in his hotel room with no knowledge of how he'd gotten there. A piece of paper was between his hands, one word written on it in black ink.

_Out._

"Fine," he growled at the paper. "If that's how you want to play it. I'm listening now."

He stood up as if to cement that point, teetering on his feet as the drug-hangover hit him. _In ten minutes,_ he amended. _Then you're mine, Batman._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess it's safe to say this is just crack now. Gotta love it, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm having too much fun with this. Please excuse all this ooc crackiness.

Nick Fury returned to Gotham a few weeks later, claiming he had essential information to retrieve from a government source. SHIELD didn't blink at the idea, and the lie wasn't that far off. He was in Gotham to find Batman-and if he wanted to recruit the man, he needed to know his identity. After that, there wouldn't be anywhere the Dark Knight could hide.

So, once again, he found himself hiding among trashcans and heating vents on some rooftop in Gotham at ass crack in the morning. He had good intel this time-a scared looking ex-con had informed him, upon serious enhanced interrogation, that the Batman used this rooftop to survey the town occasionally after his nightly patrol. _Occasionally_ meaning it had happened twice in the past year, but still. It was a lead.

His other recon had pointed at one clue-and God almighty, it had taken days. But he had a suspect. All of the pieces were falling into place-a love for justice, tall, athletic. Always busy working, especially nights. Now all he had to do was find Batman and confront him.

He figured, if all else failed, he'd pull up a police scanner and listen for news. Jim Gordon might even draw the Bat out of hiding, and that was definitely his next plan. Maria Hill had scoffed at him on their last video chat, poking holes in his _plan_ with just her eyes. What did she know? She'd been so scared by the Batman that she'd fallen down a fire escape and knocked herself out. At least he'd stayed _conscious._

It was three A.M when he finally saw movement on the Gotham skyline. His legs were numb from being scrunched up underneath his leather coat, and he was getting seriously bored with all of the Gotham nightly sounds. All of this "please help me, I'm getting mugged!" and "shut the fuck up, bitch!" and "where do you keep your diamonds?!" was getting a bit ridiculous. No wonder Batman wanted to clean up the streets-he probably couldn't sleep.

"Batman to Superman," a voice murmured to his left, almost making him startle, "Rendezvous point 49 in Gotham."

A blur of red and blue later, and two figures were standing in front of him. Fury bit down on a happy grunt, leaning forward so he could see better. Batman and Superman _together_ on one roof? Hill was going to eat her hat when he came back.

"Batman," Superman said gravely, folding his arms behind him. "Isn't it a little late for you?"

The Dark Knight glared at him. If Fury could see behind his lenses, he'd guess the man was rolling his eyes right now. "Very funny."

"What's up?" Fury blinked as Superman adopted a casual pose, smirking a little at the other man. "Arkham giving you trouble again? You look stressed."

"When is Arkham _not_ giving me trouble?" Batman growled, turning from the other man. He looked out across the skyline, cape swirling behind him. "I left Robin at home."

"Why's that?"

"Rachel wanted to see him," Fury almost crowed with delight. _Rachel Dawes_ , it had to be! Now the pieces were falling into place. "She said something about motherly instincts, and I just backed up."

"Not your style?" Superman said with a grin.

"Not my style." Batman agreed, leaning on the roof's edge. "You have the intel I was asking about?"

"Yep." Superman said, smiling at the scowling man. "I can't believe we're doing this, but…"

"Where is it?"

"Eidetic memory, remember?" Superman asked, tapping his head. "All up here."

"Jesus Christ."

"What?"

"You _memorized_ it?"

"How else was I supposed to get it out of Waller's office?" Superman said, looking defensive.

Batman looked exasperated. "I don't know, you make _copies_?"

"I didn't have time!"

"You have _superspeed_!"

"I still didn't have enough time!" Superman exclaimed, holding his hands out. "Look, B, it's not like I won't share it with you."

"I want copies, Kal," Batman said with a frown, crossing his arms. "The Justice League is not going to be built on your all-American memory."

"That adjective was completely unnecessary."

Batman scowled. "I'm beginning to think this meeting is completely unnecessary."

"No, no, don't go." Superman said, holding a hand out. "Tell me about Robin. Or Nightwing."

"Why don't you just come visit them yourself?" Batman asked, looking pained. He gestured at the two of them. "And since when did we become buddies?"

"You tried to kill me," Superman replied, grinning. "You felt bad. The rest is history."

"I have to finish patrol. Why don't we get lunch tomorrow?" Batman asked, making Fury nearly jump out of his hiding spot in pure joy. "I'll pay."

"It's on like Donkey Kong!" Superman replied, looking like he wanted to hug Batman, and was desperately trying not to. "See you tomorrow."

"Uh huh," with that, the Dark Knight was gone, rappelling off to another building. Fury watched with extreme curiosity as Superman pulled out a cellphone from his suit, dialing a number.

"Hey.. No, no I'm fine. Late night. No. Uh huh. Hey, can we put extra protection on Clark Kent for a few days? I'm worried about him and this piece. No, nobody beat him up. Yet."

Who was Clark Kent? Fury wracked his brain, coming up with an answer. A reported for the Daily Planet. Huh. What did he have to do with all of this?

Fury pointed a device at the phone, frantically putting an earpiece in. He heard a few jumbled words, then the line _if Clark Kent doesn't get that piece on Dent into me by Tuesday-_

"I'll make sure he gets that piece in," Superman said, "Thanks, Lois."

He pulled the earpiece out. Superman had put all the pieces together to. Was he going after Batman too, through a reporter? If he was requesting civilian back up, it had to be. Now it was almost completely confirmed. Tomorrow, he was tailing Clark Kent to Batman.

* * *

_Previously_

Superman tapped his comm. "Superman."

"I need you to land on a rooftop and pretend to have a conversation with me."

Clark looked at Gotham below, then frowned. "How did you know I was in Gotham?"

"Can you do it or not, Kent?"

That growl put a little fear even into him. "Well, yeah."

"Good. I sent you a script. Follow it."

"A _script_?" Clark said, worried. He felt his phone ping in his pocket and groaned. "Bruce, why am I getting the feeling this is a terrible idea?" He looked at his phone, then frowned. "Hey, why does Director Fury get to know _my_ secret identity? No way I'm following this script."

"You're talking about yourself in the third person."

"He's _smart,_ Bruce, he's not going to follow a fake lead. Not when you're hand feeding it to him."

"He's smart, sure," Bruce agreed gruffly, "But he's desperate. Just do what it says, Kent. Your identity will be fine."

"Easy for you to say," Clark sniffed. "I'm not following it word for word. Hey. Can I come by for breakfast after patrol? I'm starving."

There was a long silence, like Batman was debating it. Then there was a sigh. "Alfred's making pancakes."

"Oh, I am _so_ there!" Clark tapped his comm. "Superman out."

* * *

_Present_

Harvey Dent took a sip from his wine, frowning at his guests. "Aren't you going to order a drink?"

Bruce Wayne blinked at him, looking up from his cellphone. "Harvey, you read my mind." He snagged a waitress with almost supernatural ability, giving her a stunning smile. "Buffalo Trace. Double, neat."

"Little heavy for two in the afternoon, don't you think?"

They both turned to look at the reporter, Kent, who seemed suddenly embarrassed. Harvey smiled, putting an arm around Wayne's shoulders. "Just two buddies getting together for a drink. And lunch."

"And lunch," Wayne added, looking enthused. He had a suit on today that made Harvey mildly jealous, only because he knew a year's worth of pay as DA wouldn't come close to buying it. Wayne wore it like it came off the rack at Kohl's, as always. "Speaking of, when are we getting around to this little... _interview_ thingy?"

Harvey tamped down a grin as Kent spluttered, almost knocking his glasses off in his haste to get his voice recorder. "Why don't we start now?"

"Sure!"

Harvey only half-paid attention to the interview, knowing that Wayne was doing the same. They did these little lunches all the time-the press was always trying to get a quote with Gotham's two figureheads. They'd started calling him the "White Knight" of Gotham, which didn't hurt their chances. Lord knew what they were calling Wayne-he'd been Gotham's prince, Gotham's favorite son, and the Gotham Playboy all in one article once.

After a half hour (and half a delicious new york strip steak) he started noticing a man over Wayne's left shoulder. It was a taller man with darker skin, wearing an eye patch over one eye. In Gotham, this wasn't unusual at all, but the man kept….staring.

He didn't say anything to Wayne, who was on his third double of the afternoon (and looked like it) or to Kent, who only managed to look one millimeter less nervous than when they began. With a shrug, he passed it off as a strange moment and started paying more attention to Kent's questions-which were starting to sting a little. "No, I don't think the new water filtration system the DOP is installing has a conflict of interest with the mayor's reelection campaign-to insist on that would be _ridiculous-_ "

He cut off as a hand landed on his shoulder, startled. He looked up to see the one-eyed man from before leaning heavily on him, chest pressed against his chair. "Y-yes?"

"I know who you are," the man said, smiling wide. He gave him a _look_ that was obviously supposed to convey something, but fell short. He looked manic-like he'd been on the streets for days. "I did it. I found out who you are."

Across the table, Wayne was looking a little blank, like he'd forgotten what to say. Kent looked strangely calm. They were both watching the man, and not Harvey. "Uh, can we help you…"

"I'm here for him," the man said darkly, still staring at Harvey. "You thought you could hide from me-from me!-and trick me again and again. Well, you're wrong!"

Harvey put his hands up slowly, trying to stay calm. "Listen, mister, I have no idea what you're talking about-"

"Don't talk like one of them!" the man shouted, yanking Harvey up. "You're smarter than them! I know you are!"

Harvey cringed. "Alright, alright. Please don't hurt me."

"I'm taking you," the man said, "Outside. We can talk freely there. _Now_."

He frogmarched Harvey towards the doors, while the rest of the restaurant looked on. They all seemed to shrug and go back to eating after a few seconds of thought for their kidnapped DA. Wayne sighed and stood.

"Can I get a refill? Hello?"

* * *

The seconds Dent was outside, Clark looked at Bruce. "You said Fury wasn't going to hurt him!"

"I didn't think he was going to _kidnap_ him! I just wanted him to see you together so he'd get off my trail. Jesus." Bruce said, paying the bill quickly. He gestured at the doors. "Let's go."

"What are you doing? We can't just barge out there and save Harvey! He'll know it was us!"

Bruce grabbed him by the shoulders. "We'll make it look like an accident. Just follow my lead."

"An _accident_?" Clark squawked. "Bruce! He looks like a crazy person! He hasn't slept in days!"

They stumbled outside, Bruce a little hesitant on his feet. Clark concentrated and pointed left, into an alley. Already they could hear the sounds of fists hitting flesh.

"Fuck," Bruce said as they ran, turning pale. "Rachel is _never_ going to forgive me."

Fury was standing over Harvey's prone form, kicking him. "Fight, damn you! Why are you holding back? I know you can fight me!"

"Stop!" Bruce yelled, stumbling into the alley. "Jesus, Harvey, are you alright?"

Clark grabbed his cellphone dramatically, holding it to his ear so Fury could see. "I'm calling the police, asshole! You're not getting away with this!"

Fury looked up from Harvey briefly, eyeing them. "Leave me alone. I have an _interrogation_ to get back to."

"Stop hitting him!" Bruce yelled, diving in front of Fury's next kick. "What the hell are you doing?"

"He's Batman," Fury said viciously, aiming another hit. "Get up and prove it, Dent! We all know it was you!"

"Nghhh…." Dent groaned, blood dribbling from his mouth. "Nnnoot….b'tmann…"

"That's what Batman would say!" Fury said manically, "But I found you!"

Bruce looked at Clark, making eye contact. He shook his head and the reporter dropped his phone. Under his breath, he muttered "Make sure no one else can hear us."

Clark looked around and confirmed, frowning. Was Bruce giving up this easily? Fury kicked Dent viciously, this time in the ribs, and he heard a bone crack. _Jesus. Fine, do it._

"Stop." Bruce said, standing up and facing Fury. "Stop hitting him. Now."

"I have to-"

In the blink of an eye, Bruce grabbed Fury's moving foot and flung him into the alley wall, barely shifting from his spot. The director spluttered, picking himself up off the floor. "What the hell, Wayne?"

"Harvey Dent is not Batman," Bruce said firmly, "I am."

"You expect me to believe that?" Fury said, throwing his head back. He laughed for a good thirty seconds, face turning dark red. " _You_? _Bruce Wayne_? That's the funniest shit I've heard all week-"

Bruce's next hit sent him hurtling into the alley wall, busting his cheek against the stone. Fury looked up with confusion plain on his face, holding his swelling cheek. "So the baby billionaire took some self-defense lessons. Cute."

Dent groaned from the floor, and Clark took the opportunity to drag him out from underneath what was about to be a fight. The DA cracked open an eye, his face battered.

"Rachel?"

"Nope," Clark said, then pinched his carotid briefly. The taller man passed out instantly. He looked over his bones briefly and was pleased to see only one of them was broken. "Sorry, Harvey."

Across from him, Bruce was still standing in front of Fury. The director was still smirking.

"Who knew it was so easy to beat up the Batman?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow, shifting his stance suggestively. "Why don't you come find out?"

"I'm not talking about you, Wayne."

"Harvey has a cleft chin, Fury!" Clark shouted, because he really just needed to point it out. "Batman doesn't! It's really painfully obvious at this point-"

"Shut up!" Fury yelled, pointing at him. "Wayne, get out of my way before you get hurt."

"Make me."

"Fine!"

Fury swung at Bruce, almost quicker than the eye could see. The other man was already moving, however, ducking the punch and landing a hit on the director's kidneys. The older man went down without warning, holding his back. "What the hell-"

Bruce leapt up and kicked him across the jaw, displaying impressive grace and agility. Fury went flying backwards and landed on the cobblestones, nearly unconscious. A moment of silence passed.

"You really….are him…" Fury groaned, holding his jaw. He forced himself to a sitting position, looking pained. "Aren't you?"

Bruce's expression was coldly furious. "I told you to leave my city. Now you attacked my friends. I should throw you off a building."

"You have a no killing rule, Bruce!" Clark called out unhelpfully. "Remember!"

"Shut the fuck up, Clark!" Bruce growled, pointing at him. "Tell that to Zod's snapped neck!"

Clark's eyes went wide. " _Bruce_."

Fury was sluggishly watching the conversation, blood pouring down his face. "I found you…."

"You did," Bruce affirmed, walking towards him. "Any last words before I throw you out of Gotham?"

"Please…" Fury groaned again, touching his jaw gingerly, like it might break. It probably was broken after that kick, though Clark didn't check. "The initiative. We….need you."

"No," Bruce said, the irritation in his voice growing. "I'm not joining your stupid little _initiative,_ and that's that!" He knelt in front of Fury, grabbing his shirtfront and hauling him up. His voice lowered.

"If I ever find you in Gotham again...I will personally see to it that your 'avengers' are disbanded, defunded, and barred from any sort of government service for the rest of their lives. Do you understand me, Fury?"

The director nodded shakily, then went very pale. HIs eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fainted. Bruce let him drop to the alley, wiping his hands as he stood.

Clark looked up from Harvey as Bruce strode away, frowning. "You weren't actually considering his offer, were you?"

An amused snort broke the silence. "You think I would cheat on the Justice League with the Avengers?"

"Of course not," Clark said too quickly, covering up his concern. "Am I, uh, flying him back?"

"Please?"

Clark gathered Harvey in his arms, handing him off to Bruce. "Have fun explaining this to Rachel, then."

Bruce took the heavier man without complaint, glaring down at Harvey's face. "She's going to kill me, isn't she?"

"Tell her it was a bar fight." Clark said unhelpfully, grabbing Fury from the alley floor.

"At three in the afternoon? When everyone saw Fury walk him out?"

"It's _Gotham_ , Bruce."

A sigh. "Fair point."

"Hey," Clark said, before he took off. "Can I, uh, come around for dinner tomorrow?"

Another sigh. "What is Alfred making this time?"

"Meatballs. But that's not the point, okay-I wanna build confidence between u-Bruce. Stop walking away. Bruce! I know you can hear me!"

* * *

Fury lurched awake, stopped from vaulting out of his bed by a firm arm. Maria Hill glared down at him.

"You're severely injured, Director. Stats says you haven't slept in almost a week."

"I know who he is," Fury gasped, grabbing her arm. "I know who Batman is!"

"Great…." Hill said, backing up a little. "How about you lay down again, and we talk after the pain meds wear off?"

Fury lifted a hand to object, but the sneaky woman already had a needle in his IV. He felt his eyes close, settling back down on his bed. _Soon,_ he thought to himself. _Soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go! Thanks for reading, and don't forget to leave me a comment and let me know what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> now taking prompts on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/frownyalfred)


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